


...Now I Sleep.

by amireal



Series: The Long Journey Home [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddling, Epilogue, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/pseuds/amireal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission is over and all that's left is to rest. (Epilogue to '...Miles to Go.')</p>
            </blockquote>





	...Now I Sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of adore the sort of fluff that happened at the end of the original story and while I was writing the remix I took a break to write this. It's basically a couple thousand words of tired fluff.

Clint had been to Phil’s apartment before. Over the years they’d taken turns dropping one another off after being released from medical and there’d been that one time that Clint couldn’t stomach the idea of sleeping overnight despite the doctors demands for at least twenty four hours of observation. He’d been rescued from a stainless steel cell that smelled of antiseptic and used nearly the same beds as medical had. Without asking, Phil had bundled him up and taken him to his place and settled Clint on his amazingly comfortable couch and watched over him for the required 36 hours, a compromise from medical so he wouldn’t try too much too soon without proper supervision. The entire thing had cemented something deep inside of Clint, about Phil, about how to be a good person in general. The memory still made him clench a little inside.

This time, stepping inside Phil’s home felt different, monumental and special, but also easy and right and just a little bit perfect. Agent Services had done an excellent job reopening the apartment, there was only a slightly lingering musty smell and someone, he took a deep breath, yep, it must have been Jenny, had baked a tray of pre-made cookies just to warm the place up. Clint shuffled into the kitchen without even dropping his stuff just to make sure there was a container of delicious cookies waiting, and yep, there were. He smiled, imagining sharing them with Phil. After sex. And maybe a nap. And more sex.

Clint shook his head, there would be plenty of time for that later. Phil would still be drop dead tired when he got home— in— no. Clint shook his head. Home. When Phil got home. Clint smiled and shuffled his way to the bedroom, he was still pretty damn tired and lifting his feet at the moment just seemed like too much work. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

TALL CHEST, TOP AND MIDDLE DRAWERS, HAVE ROOM. LONG DRESSER, MIDDLE DRAWER AND BOTTOM RIGHT. EXTRA HANGERS IN COAT CLOSET. MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME. SEE YOU SOON.

Clint smiled, Phil must have been waiting for the door alert on his email. Clint’s bio signature and alarm code had been on Phil’s system for a while but it was set to alert Phil any time someone entered his apartment, including Phil. His phone buzzed again as he was opening the dresser drawers, despite being a spy, having this level of permission to be inside of Phil’s space felt a little sacred and a lot like a big deal, but a good big deal. He checked his phone.

MISS YOU ALREADY.

And then another.

IT’S VERY POSSIBLE I’M STILL TOO TIRED TO WORK.

And then another.

JUST CHOKED UP OVER JASPER BRINGING ME A DANISH WITHOUT ASKING FIRST. JASPER NOW EYING ME WITH SUSPICION.

One more.

IF I’M NOT THERE BY MORNING, COME BAIL ME OUT OF LOCKUP.

Clint waited, with a smile so wide it nearly cracked his face in half, to see if that was the end of it.

HAS OCCURRED TO ME THAT MAYBE I’M NOT TIRED, JUST HAPPY THAT YOU ARE IN MY APARTMENT.

Clint laughed his way through unpacking, he was just wondering if maybe he should rearrange Phil’s suits just for the fun of it when his phone buzzed again.

NOPE, DEFINITELY TIRED. BUT ALSO REALLY HAPPY YOU’RE AT MY PLACE. JASPER CHECKED ME FOR A FEVER. REMIND ME TO PUNK HIM LATER.

Snickering quietly, Clint went to check out the food situation, when Phil got home he was gonna need something to eat before passing out for a solid 12 hours or so. His stomach growled, so was he, because there was no way he was missing curling up with Phil in a bed. 

Inside of Phil’s freezer Clint found the holy grail. Jenny was an awesome woman and deserved a raise. She understood that all agents wanted when back from a long assignment was good food without effort, along side the pre-made, _homemade_ food were the usual base ingredients for future cooking adventures. Clint slipped out a frozen carafe of thick vegetable soup, some par-baked bread and, oh awesome, chicken cacciatore topped with potatoes. Clint hummed quietly as he read the notes left on the food and followed them easily. 

There was even a note with the cookies, apparently there was milk in the fridge to go with them. Jenny missed her calling as an amazing grandmother. Clint set everything to warm slowly, tapped out an alarm on his phone and then curled up on the couch, the same gloriously awesome couch from before. Clint wiggled in and then idly realized it was deep enough for two grown men to snuggle together. Excellent.

Clint’s five hours total plus the incentive of syncing body clocks with Phil kept him awake through a handful of episodes of something a half hour long and from the mid 90s, if the shirts were anything to go by. It was at least pretty funny. The fifth episode was just getting started when his phone buzzed again. 

FREEDOM!! FURY CAUGHT ME TALKING TO THE COFFEE MACHINE, HAVE BEEN SENT HOME FOR EVERYONE’S SAFETY. EVEN GOT MY OWN DRIVER. ETA 30 MIN.

Clint turned the oven on and moved the soup back onto the burner, he’d shut everything down about 30 minutes early, and then snooped for plates and silverware. 

Twenty-eight minutes later Phil announced his presence with an incredibly loopy, “Honey, I’m hoooome.”

Laughing uproariously, Clint greeted him with a sloppy kiss and a bone cracking hug, just because he could. “Dinner, no wait,” Clint released Phil just enough to look at his watch, “yes actually, it is dinner, should be just about done.”

“Food?” Phil perked up a little from his droopy stance, apparently he’d used most of his energy on his greeting. “Yes. Food.” He dropped his briefcase and toed off his shoes right where he was. “I need to change, into something without buttons.”

“Don’t fall asleep in there!” Clint called after him as he moved to check on the food. By the time he’d dished it all up and moved it to the table, Phil shuffled back out wearing thin sleeping pants and a worn Rangers t-shirt, his hair was ruffled and he looked a little befuddled as he quite obviously followed his nose to the food. To Clint, he just looked perfect.

Phil took in the table and then smiled softly. “Jenny deserves a raise,” then he turned that smile on Clint, “and you deserve whatever you want.”

Clint’s face went warm and he ducked his head, “You’re adorable when you’re this tired.” He waved his hand at Phil, motioning at him, “Sit. Eat.”

They were both too tired to both talk and eat at the same time but that was okay, the silence was comfortable, comforting even. Clint could see Phil wilt just a little more with each bite, his body finally getting enough calories to sleep. By the time he sloppily shoved the last bite of his second helping of chicken into his mouth, Phil had almost reached slow motion. Clint, who had cleaned up just after the seconds were served just smiled fondly and grabbed the last of the dishes. He filled two reusable bottles with water and then nudged Phil with his toes until he blinked tiredly but stood to follow him into the bedroom.

“But,” Phil stuttered to a stop, “cookies?”

Clint kept moving until his body pressed gently up against Phil’s warm back and then nudged him back into movement. “Sleep first, sugar later.”

“Sleep. Yes.” Phil kept moving forward until his knees hit the bed frame, where he actually just went with it and fell to his hands and knees on the mattress. Clint knew how tired he still was when it was more cute than arousing. Thankfully Phil seemed to have turned down the blankets when he’d changed earlier, so it was mostly just a matter of falling to his side and sliding his legs under the covers.

Clint left him a water bottle and went to the other side with his own, setting it aside before crawling in with Phil, who immediately rolled into Clint, a soft, warm mass, snuggling into Clint’s side. Clint slid an arm around him and pulled the blankets up before turning off the lamp and plunging them into darkness.

Next to his ear, Phil breathed out hard, the last of the tension falling away from his body and he went nearly liquid with pliancy against Clint. 

“I love you,” Clint whispered into Phil’s temple and then kissed him gently.

“I ev’ry ‘th’n you,” Phil slurred before slipping off into a deep sleep with a quiet snore that petered out nearly instantly.

Clint blinked, emotion choking his chest and eyes, flattened completely by Phil’s sleepy ramblings. Suddenly and with a shock like a bucket of cold water, Clint got scared, there was this person, who loved him, all of him, so much so that he could pass out so completely in his presence without even making sure there was a weapon nearby. Clint had stuffed his own sidearm in the bedside table he’d claimed as his own and he felt the urge to check on it and remain awake so that Phil would be completely safe. That was how he knew how to care but Phil made him want to do other things. Made him want to curl up around him and sleep the deepest sleep he’d ever had and know that it was okay because they were together. He made Clint’s heart beat so fast and his fingers itch to touch and retouch and then touch some more. Even while he was laying there, freaking out just a tiny bit, his hands had starting taking long strokes down Phil’s amazing back.

From just under his chin, Phil’s sleep slurred voice muttered, “Why so tense?” He rubbed his nose against Clint’s sternum.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Clint whispered, annoyed with himself for waking Phil up when he was so tired.

“Only if you do,” Phil’s eyes were closed but his body had lost some of its absolutely pliancy, “stop thinking, think later, sleep now.”

Clint couldn’t help but laugh, Phil, of all people, was telling him not to think. 

He could feel Phil’s smile as it pressed into his chest, even through the shirt, “Good, laughing is good,” Phil said, a hand coming up to clumsily stroke at his ribs. “Now sleep. Or I’ll make you have the relationship talk before the sex.”

Clint continued to laugh. “What’s to talk about? I have drawers in your bedroom and free range in your kitchen.”

Phil propped his head up, goofy smile on his face, “’Xactly,” he looked adorably smug. “Now sleep,” he dropped his head and then resumed the utter relaxation of someone dead asleep. His breathing bore it out only seconds later.

Somehow, that sleepy exchange settled something inside of Clint and so with little effort he closed his eyes and it was no time at all before he was finally letting Phil’s deep breathing lull him down into sleep.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clint woke up first, having had more chances for sleep than Phil, still looking at the clock he saw that it was a little more than eight hours later. On top of him, Phil had once again, barely moved, which meant Clint hadn’t moved either because apparently they were now symbiotic sleeping partners, an idea that sounded lovely on paper, but in reality, mostly ended up in stiff muscles.

He stretched gently, slowly moving Phil’s body, not really looking to remove his presence but to gently wake him. Phil’s head slowly moved, rolling to the side just before his eyelids fluttered open, he focused on Clint’s face and smiled softly and Clint could tell exactly when his memory turned on. “Oh god,” he muffled his face back into Clint’s shoulder, “tell me despite being overtired, I was still completely sane and not a punch drunk fool yesterday.”

“Well,” Clint said, rubbing his cheek on Phil’s head affectionately, “I can’t account for when I wasn’t there, but you were pretty adorably hilarious when you got here.” Truthfully, Clint doubted Phil had allowed himself to relax that much in the presence of more than a handful of people, that Clint had witnessed the complete and total meltdown of propriety meant a lot to him.

Phil used Clint’s shoulder to gently bang his head against, “Jasper probably has video evidence.”

“Then,” Clint said slowly, “I should probably get to know him better, if he’s gonna hoard the good stuff like that.”

In retaliation, Phil bit his neck playfully, nibbling jut under his chin and what was playful quickly went shockingly erotic as Phil’s teeth grazed his skin, followed by an apologetic lick. “Sorry,” Phil said, muffled into Clint’s skin, “the idea leaving a mark, any mark, has been a little bit of an obsession of mine after all those months.”

“No, no,” Clint breathed out, trying not to roll over and just rub himself against Phil until they were both sated, sweaty messes. “I’m good with that, though now I can’t get the idea of giving you a hickey out of my head.”

“Mmm,” Phil said, yawning, “sounds nice.”

“Still tired?” Clint asked, “It’s been eight hours, thought you might like a bathroom break, maybe some breakfast or a hot shower. You haven’t actually moved since we passed out last night.”

“I think I’ll be tired for a week,” Phil said, but he rolled off Clint and stretched anyway, “but a shower sounds nice.”

Clint nodded, getting to his feet, chugging the bottle of water he’d left out for himself. “I’ll find some food,” he said between swallows, “maybe some coffee.” Even if all they did was eat and crawl back into bed, Phil had just about overdosed on caffeine, he needed to come down off it slowly or there’d be a headache, it had happened once during a clusterfuck of an op that had kept Phil on base for 72 hours with barely any rest. Clint remembered finding Phil in a dark office with a hand slung over his eyes.

“Mmm. Coffee,” Phil said sleepily, just before chugging his own bottle of water. “Just for the record,” he said after putting down the, now, near empty bottle, “I’m only taking this shower alone because I’m too tired to be coordinated enough to shower with a partner, next one,” he gave Clint a hot once over, “all bets are off.”

Clint swallowed his suddenly dry throat, “Right. Yes. No problem.”

Phil finished what should have been a scorchingly hot come on with a stagger that nearly led him into a door frame, he was delightfully befuddled just after waking. Clint smiled and then collected their water bottles and wandered out into the kitchen.

He would have liked to have eaten together, their time while undercover had been a series of rules and restraints, but sitting across from Phil while they ate had been one of the better limitations. Still, once Clint heard the shower go on, his skin had begun to itch for its own time under a stream of steaming hot water. So when Phil came out wrapped in a towel, looking flushed and half naked— seriously, there was skin everywhere and it was amazing and damp and— Phil laughed quietly, “Your turn Clint and then we’ll get back to that thought.”

Clint had never made it inside of a shower faster, even that time with the mud and the chicken droppings. When he stepped out of the bathroom, his own towel slung low on his hips, he peered out into the main part of the apartment to check and yep— Phil was still in a towel. Well, two could play at that game. Phil was just setting the dishes in the sink and grabbing the now refilled water bottles when his eyes caught Clint lounging about on the far wall.

“All clean?” He asked smiling.

“Yep.”

“Had enough food?” Phil asked, walking towards him.

“Mmhmm.”

“Hydrated?” He wiggled the bottle at Clint’s face.

“Very.”

“Well then,” Phil’s eyes went dark and complicated, “what are we doing out here?”

“Absolutely no idea,” Clint said, by then Phil was just millimeters from pressing into him, his skin so close a few hairs brushed against Clint’s stomach and chest. 

After a long moment, Phil closed the final distance and Clint groaned as Phil’s skin brushed into his, then more firmly until their towel clad erections rubbed wonderfully together and Clint dropped his head back to the wall so he didn’t just devour Phil right there. Only that just encouraged Phil to explore other options, mostly his neck, with Phil’s lips and teeth and tongue, almost certainly leaving a trail of markings which Clint was totally okay with. At some point Phil had dropped the water bottles and wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist, his hands curving down over the top half of his ass and kneading.

Well, who was Clint to object? Clint slid his own hands down Phil’s flank, ducking his head down to capture Phil’s lips in a kiss that went dirty and wet very, very fast. One of them made a noise, something plaintive and needy and their towels got lost as Clint wrapped a leg around Phil to pull him close, closer. Oh god, just pressing them together, skin flush with skin, was absolutely amazing and his cock already ached and he was pressed against an equally hard cock from Phil.

“This is gonna be fast,” Clint gasped, pulling Phil into his embrace over and over again so that they rubbed so perfectly sparks were jolting up Clint’s spine.

Phil bit his lip and then licked his neck, while hiking Clint’s leg up further, finding an even better angle, “As long as we’re not in that damn car,” he growled into Clint’s ear before nibbling on the cord of muscle that started just under his lobe.

“Agreed, unf,” Clint dick was happily rubbing against Phil’s hip and yet he was still almost overwhelmed by everything else. He smelled amazing and Clint wanted nothing more than to bury his face into whatever bit of skin was closest and breath deep and then probably mark him up as much as possible.

Quickly, they locked into a rhythm, Phil’s hips rolling smoothly against Clint’s, not fast, but not slow either, just inevitable and so very good. As predicted, it climbed quickly and awesomely and soon all they could do was pant hoarsely and let their bodies jerk at each other until Clint’s balls ached and his cock felt so good Clint was seriously confused about how he hadn’t come yet. Something must have caught for Phil because he stopped abruptly, whimpered into Clint’s collar bone and then his hands curved further around Clint’s ass and _pulled up_ and Clint had no choice but to go with it, wrapping is other leg around Phil and oh— god— against the wall. Phil was practically fucking him against the wall and holding him and— his orgasm screamed out of him and being pinned to the wall, all he could do was take it, experience it, and then babble at Phil encouragingly as he made his final, frantic and uncoordinated thrusts.

They came back to themselves with Phil leaning heavily on Clint whose legs were slowly sliding apart like jello and the only thing holding them up was friction and a nice strong wall. At Phil’s first attempt to pull away Clint’s arms tightened instinctively, “No, don’t go,” he said, burying his face into Phil’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Phil said quietly.

Clint blinked and realized what he’d done, loosening his grip with difficulty, “Sorry, I think the car sex warped something. I just—” he squirmed, finding it harder to ask for what he wanted than in those dark pockets of heat and affection at the railroad crossing, “can we just get into bed?”

Phil paused dramatically and then gently squeezed the thigh he now had a grip on in order to keep them upright, “Without falling on our asses first?”

“Eh,” Clint said, going for nonchalant and probably missing by a mile, “I’m not picky.”

“Good to know,” Phil said and Clint could see the worry in his eyes and hear the slightly soft edge to his words, “I think I’ve got feeling back in my knees, so how about I push up and you let a leg go back down to the floor?”

Clint nodded and watched with no small amount of amazement at how they untangled themselves without someone getting an elbow or a knee into something sensitive until eventually they both had two feet on the ground and Phil tipped them gently to lean against the wall again, only this time he enfolded Clint into a warm hug, one hand stroking his back, the other holding the back of Clint’s head carefully. Clint found himself folding into it, sinking into Phil’s arms like they were home.

“Everything okay?” Phil asked, low and quiet, “Do you need something?”

Clint sighed and shook his head. “Just you,” he mumbled, determined not to be embarrassed.

“Hey,” Phil said, nudging Clint’s head up and off his shoulder so he could meet Clint’s eyes, “you’ve got me, okay?”

“I know,” Clint nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, “I do, I know, It’s just— all those months—”

“I know,” Phil kissed him softly, “I know.” They rested their foreheads together.

They stayed that way until Clint felt Phil’s entire body shiver and suddenly he was aware that they were naked and vaguely sticky, he picked up the nearest towel with his foot and snagged it with his fingers. When he caught Phil’s eyes, they sparkled with amusement, Clint grinned back and wiped his stomach down before offering the clean side to him.

“A gentleman,” Phil said, the corners of his mouth curved upwards, “with, quite possibly, opposable toes.”

Clint snickered, dropping his head back to Phil’s shoulder where it felt really, really good to rest it. 

Phil was also laughing quietly while mopping himself up. “Come on,” Phil said, dropping the towel back onto the floor, “I haven’t even come close to catching up on sleep, let alone getting tired of waking up next to you.”

“Or falling asleep,” Clint added, reaching to his back to grab one of Phil’s hands and thread their fingers together before finally feeling able to move away from Phil.

They stumbled to the bedroom, so close together their feet occasionally tangled but that was fine by Clint because it just meant that Phil was as close as Clint wanted him, almost. Even the scant few seconds where their hands parted so that they could tumble into the bed and right the bedding felt off to Clint who wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let go of the absent ache having Phil too far away seemed to bring now that there was no overbearing reason to stay separate from each other.

This was only the third time Phil was climbing into bed with him and Clint didn’t think there’d ever be a time he wouldn’t find the way Phil just relaxed against him, went boneless and soft, to be anything other than fantastic and wondrous.

Clint rolled them onto their sides, his free leg moving to drag one of Phil’s between his. Their noses touched on the pillow they shared and Phil’s eyes were still so soft when they looked at him. “Hi,” he said, a quiet happiness that demanded to be let out.

Phil smiled back at him, “Hi.”

They laughed and wrapped around one another like they’d done it all their lives and Clint ran a lazy hand down Phil’s warm skin and tried very hard to memorize it even though he knew there’d be another chance, just seconds later. “I can’t decide,” he said carefully, “if on our first anniversary,” he ran his hand down again, finding dips and muscles and all sorts of fascinating things, “I should take you to the nearest railway crossing,” Clint smiled at Phil’s quiet laughter, “or as far away from one as possible.”

They laughed freely and easily and Phil leaned in and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “I don’t care,” he said, stealing another kiss, “as long as we do it together.”

“Deal,” Clint said and then leaned in and began trying to memorize each and every bit of Phil Coulson he could find and when he was done, he’d start all over again, just in case.


End file.
